


in the low lamp light, i was free

by YouDontRememberTheSomme



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-War, just two boys in love, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontRememberTheSomme/pseuds/YouDontRememberTheSomme
Summary: Rossi wanted to keep him like this, whimpering, pliant, wearing nothing but James’s shirt. He was so strangely angelic in the early dawn, eyes shut tight as he tried to meet Rossi’s movements.
Relationships: Private Cooke/Private Rossi (1917)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	in the low lamp light, i was free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nurax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurax/gifts).



Cooke was clingy in the mornings. Heavy-lidded green eyes would shoot pleading little looks at Rossi, trying to coax him into staying in bed longer. 

James rarely did. It was hard to not be wide awake and a bit apprehensive, the stillness grating on his nerves. 

But Cooke always calmed him, blathering on about this or that while Rossi got ready. 

Little bastard always stole his shirts, trailing after James and holding onto him while he made coffee.

Charlie, all sleep-ruffled hair and long, clingy limbs, hugged James from behind, nuzzling between his shoulder blades. “Jamie,” he whined, ignoring the fact that his lover was preoccupied. “It’s too early to be awake.”

“Shouldn’t have woken me up with all your squirming then,” Rossi retorted, no bite in his voice. 

“I wanted to fucking cuddle, you bastard.”

“Right, and is that why you’re competing with a mug of coffee for my attention?”

Cooke pouted, burying his face in Rossi’s shoulder. “You don’t have to always be so mean.”

“I only point out the obvious, princess.”

“You always call me that,” Cooke muttered, nuzzling along Rossi’s throat. 

“You always complain, as if it doesn’t get you off.”

Cooke made a soft, noncommittal noise. “You get me off no matter what you’re saying.”

“You really want me to put that to the test, don’t you?” Rossi teased, setting his mug down. Charlie didn’t respond, littering kisses along James’s shoulder. 

“Alright, doll, enough. I have to go soon.”

“Jamie,” he whined, drawing out the ‘e’ sound. “Pay attention to me.”

“You’ve got my full attention, princess.”

Cooke scowled at him, trying not to smile. “Smartass.”

Rossi just grinned, turning to face him. “C’mere, doll.”

“Thought you had to leave soon,” Cooke retorted, wrapping his arms around Rossi’s neck and letting a soft, surprised sound slip when James picked him up and set him on the counter. 

“Thought my doll wanted my attention,” Rossi murmured, planting kisses down Cooke’s jaw and making him squirm.

“I do,” Cooke said softly.

“So let me pay attention to you, sugar.”

Cooke almost shivered- even after all their time together, Rossi had that effect on him. He was teasing but sweet, quick to chastise him but not condescend to the younger man. Cooke fucking _adored_ him.

Charlie shut his eyes, silently reveling in the way Rossi touched him. He’d memorized Jamie’s hands long ago, knew how they’d feel against his skin before Rossi even touched him.

Rossi always handled him so gently, undressing him with such care that always Cooke whined at him to hurry, that he wasn’t made of glass. He never did, because he knew better. Cooke enjoyed how Rossi treated him, as much as he insisted otherwise. As much as he protested, Rossi knew him. Cooke was something precious to him, and he liked showing it.

Cooke melted into him, nothing but little content purrs spilling from his mouth as Rossi delicately ran his hands up Cooke’s thighs. 

“Wearing my shirt again," he noted, absently tugging the hem of the too-large white undershirt.

“Smells like you.”

“That why you always stealing my shirts?"

Cooke let out a little whine, bratty and petulant as ever. "Yours are better."

"And why's that, bambi?" Rossi asked, gently tugging down his sweetheart's boxers. 

Cooke gave him a look, as if Rossi was the densest man alive. "They're yours."

"Oh you're too fucking sweet," James murmured, his hands roaming over Cooke's bared skin. "Get yourself ready for me, doll."

Cooke gave him a pleading look. "I want you to do it. You do it better."

Rossi looked almost amused, his expression carefully blank. "Go get the tin from your nightstand, princess."

"There's one in the drawer," Cooke mumbled, nodding to the one just a few steps behind Rossi. "'m almost out so I got another one a few days ago."

"Just got that one recently, doll," Rossi remarked, raising an eyebrow. "You using it when I'm at work?"

"I get bored without you," he said softly, shy for the first time in a while.

"Adorable," Rossi murmured, turning to grab the little tin.

The sound of it being unscrewed, the almost _filthy_ way Rossi's eyes ran over him, both things made him shudder. 

Rossi was rarely rough with him, rarely pushed things no matter how much Cooke begged and pleaded for it _harder, Jamie, harder?_

Part of it was just his love of watching Cooke whimper, part of it was out of fear of breaking his little porcelain doll.

Cooke let a soft plea slip after the first finger, getting gradually noisier as he slowly added others. For all of Rossi's teasing, he didn't say a word about Cooke's sounds, listening to them with rapt attention instead.

"Jamie," he whimpered, squirming a bit when Rossi pulled his fingers away. "Please hurry. Need you, right now, please?"

"I've got you, sugar, just be patient for me," he whispered, his hands coming to rest on Cooke's hips. 

Charlie's eyelids fluttered shut and he weakly nodded, wholeheartedly trusting Rossi to take care of him.

For all his mouthing off, he could be quiet, sweet, even, when he wanted to. 

Sitting on the kitchen counter, still wrapped in Rossi's unbuttoned shirt and clinging to the older man with needy hands, _sweet_ definitely suited him.

A vulgar little noise ripped itself from Cooke's throat as Rossi pushed into him, high and keening and begging.

Cooke melted into his touches, burying his face in the crook of his boyfriend's throat and whimpering little noises against Rossi's skin.

Rossi wanted to keep him like this, whimpering, pliant, wearing nothing but James’s shirt. He was so strangely angelic in the early dawn, eyes shut tight as he tried to meet Rossi’s movements. 

“Jamie,” Cooke whined, his head falling back. “Jamie, please-“

Rossi dug his fingers into Cooke’s hips, holding him still. “Please what, princess?”

"Please- harder, please, I need it harder-"

"We're going slow today, baby doll," Rossi cut him off, his voice just above a whisper. "Let me handle you, yeah?"

Cooke just managed a low mewling wound, pawing at Rossi's back. "I love you," he panted. "So much, Jamie, so much, fuck-"

Rossi ran a soothing hand up Cooke's side, wrapping his arm around him and tugging him close. "I've got you," he softly promised, littering kisses down Charlie's throat. 

Cooke rarely lasted long- a fact Rossi occasionally teased him for- and this morning was no exception. He huffed out a quiet warning, writhing in Rossi's grasp.

"I'm almost there, baby doll, hold on for me," Rossi murmured to him, brightening a bit when Cooke opened his eyes. They were a bit watery and filled with desire, adding to his wrecked look.

Rossi's expression softened a bit, filled with love and a bit of awe. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled, smothering Cooke with kisses. "Finish for me, princess, wanna watch you."

Cooke trembled a bit, clinging to him tighter and gasping out Rossi's name. "Jamie, right there, please, please, James-"

And just like that, Cooke came, digging his nails into Rossi's back and whimpering his name over and over again.

Rossi held him closer, smothering Cooke in kisses as the blond slowly came down. Nothing came out of his mouth but little whimpers of overstimulation as Rossi fucked him, adoration in every single one of James's touches.

Cooke, rocking his hips to meet Rossi's movements, found himself wondering if maybe Rossi wouldn't mind every single one of their mornings together beginning like this. 


End file.
